


PeyongChang 2018

by FortySevens



Series: Accidental Puppy Acquisition [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: 2018 Winter Olympics, DameRey, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Modern AU, Romance, bb-8 is a dog, figure skating, fluff with barely any plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-24 23:39:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13821882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FortySevens/pseuds/FortySevens
Summary: It’s the night of the 2018 Winter Olympics Ice Dance finals, and Poe has never seen Rey act like this.There’s a chance she might be a little high on pain meds.





	PeyongChang 2018

**Author's Note:**

> I blame 1000000% of this coming to exist on bb8scoldoutside on Tumblr, because we’ve only spent just about every moment since the Virtue/Moir free skate in the ice dance finals freaking out about the beautiful Canadians that are Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir. So here I go, mixing my two current favs, Virtue/Moir and Damerey. 
> 
> I have 99 problems and 98 of them are these two goobers. Y’all, I’m not even Canadian!
> 
> Anyway, welcome back to this loosely-defined Modern AU where Rey and Poe live together and have a dog. I swear I’ll get to the beginning of this universe and actually define it soon!
> 
> But first? I need to finish that sequel to [break me down and build me up](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13483083). I swear y'all, I'm ALMOST THERE!
> 
> Prompt of the chapter from [The Fake Redhead.com](https://thefakeredhead.com/tfrs-prompt-library/)
> 
> Number 204 
> 
> “This isn’t good.” 
> 
> “How can you tell?” 
> 
> “See how they’re slowly surrounding us? And they all have guns and knives and I think one guy is carrying a machete?”

“Poe, the last group is about to start, are you coming or not?”

 

In the kitchen, the freezer door slams shut, “Give me a second, do you want your icepack or not?”

 

Sitting on the couch with her legs stretched out in front of her and a fluffy corgi planted on her lap, Rey rolls her eyes.

 

Though, all the same, Poe’s definitely not _wrong_ about her wanting that icepack, because according to Doctor Kalonia, she _did_ strain something when she fell the other night, “I’m just saying,” she says in the direction of BB-8’s fur. “You missed Virtue and Moir’s free dance during the team competition because of that event for Senator Organa, and you’re going to be bummed if you miss it _again_.”

 

“Because it’s not going to be available online?” Poe calls back over the clatter of something hitting the kitchen counter with a _smack_.

 

With part of her focus trained on the television, where the last five pairs of ice dancers are finishing their warmups, Rey rolls her eyes, pats BB-8 on the butt when he wiggles before resettling with his head pressed up against her stomach, “You know as well as I do that ninety-nine percent of the high-quality videos are either going to be cut to pieces by NBC or blocked here on YouTube because they don’t let Canadian channels play in the States.”

 

“I promise,” Poe recites like he’s said this a few times before. “I will call about the broken DVR next week.”

 

“And the remote?”

 

It’s so old that half the buttons refuse to respond, and while they’ve gotten by the last few weeks with it half-functioning, it’s rapidly becoming one of those minor inconveniences that grows into a major one.

 

After years of getting by on the bare minimum, of not even having a television, let alone a cable subscription with all the channels known to man and most to monkey, Rey never knew that not being able to use the down arrow or the three button would make navigating to their shows so difficult.

 

“ _And_ the remote.”

 

Rey grins wide and turns her head to find Poe standing by the counter, something large and towel-wrapped in one hand and two water bottles in the other, “You’re the best,” she grins and gestures to the semi-open set on the other side of the couch where her legs are. “Now come on. Cappellini and Lanotte probably don’t have a chance for gold, but they should have a strong skate.”

 

He pads into the room on bare feet and stops behind her, on the other side of the arm of the couch she’s leaning on. Tucking the icepack against his elbow and passing the bottles to her over her head, Poe cups his hands over her shoulders, presses his thumb against the side of her neck when she shivers. Rey tilts her head back to favor him with a halfhearted scowl that’s smoothed out a little by the pain meds she took with dinner, and Poe leans down and kisses her forehead before he pushes gently at her shoulders, “Come on, scoot up.”

 

She does, and BB-8 makes a little whiny sound at her daring to disturb his seat before he jumps off her lap and retreats to his dog bed in the corner next to the balcony. Poe slides in behind her, lifting the back of her sweatshirt and sliding the wrapped icepack between it and her t-shirt, “Why does this feel like one of my bags of peas?” She asks as she wiggles a little so the frozen bag is coldest at the worst of the strain.

 

“Because it is,” Poe slides behind her, levers her over his thigh so he can wedge his leg into the back of the couch where the cushions meet, and then he pulls her back against his chest, so the pack is between them. “Doctor Kalonia said you needed to get the swelling down, and there’s nothing better for that than frozen vegetables.”

 

“Or I can _eat_ said frozen vegetables for lunch this week like I planned,” Rey grumbles as she settles against him, tucks her head under his chin and tilts onto her shoulder a little so she can get a better view of the flatscreen on the other side of the room.

 

With a chuckle, Poe kisses the side of her head and pulls the knitted throw draped over the back of the couch over their tangled legs, “If they go bad, I’ll take you to lunch every day this week.”

 

“Not the point, but I accept your offer,” she agrees magnanimously.

 

“But we’re only going to that all-you-care-to-eat sushi place around the corner _once_ ,” Poe slides his arm around her waist, digs his fingers into her ribs on her good side until she squirms, but grabs the icepack before it can side to her lower back. “My waistline can only handle so much sashimi.”

 

Rey twists her hand back and pokes him in the side until he grabs it, brings it back and kisses her knuckles, runs the side of his thumb over her blunt fingernails, “Oh stop,” she snorts. “Your waistline is _fine_.”

 

It is.

 

It _really_ is.

 

“And still needs to fit under my Kevlar. The Senator would never let me live it down.”

 

“No, she definitely wouldn’t.”

 

Squeezing his fingers, Rey turns her focus back to the flatscreen, where Cappellini and Lanotte’s scores just flashed across the lower-third banner, “Damn,” she hisses through her teeth while handing one of the water bottles back to Poe. “That score’s not going to get them a podium.”

 

Poe hums in that way that means he’s probably paying more attention to the line of freckles on her neck than he is at the television, “How did I know you’re such an Olympics fanatic?”

 

“I’m not,” she shrugs against him as the coverage breaks for commercial. “This is the first Olympics I’ve ever paid attention to, and I only started because Baze put the Olympics on during the team event the other night.”

 

“Really?”

 

Rey nods against his shoulder, “Really,” she echoes into the thin material of his t-shirt. “I wasn’t really in a place to pay attention to the Olympics for years ago, let alone before that.”

 

Poe presses his mouth to her temple, sighs against her skin, because they both know full well what Rey’s life was like before she transplanted herself from Arizona to New York in a series of events neither is actually sure _how_ it all happened. It’s a subject they tend to keep to late at night—usually long after a few drinks—when the lights are off and they’re tucked up in the privacy of their bed.

 

“Come on,” Rey breaks through the moment with a blatant subject change, pats his arm where it’s still banded around her waist before she tangles her fingers with his. “You need to watch these two. They’re supposed to be amazing, so I hope they do better than they did in the team performance.”

 

With a hum, Poe presses another kiss to the side of her head before he settles back, “And _who_ are they?”

 

“Maia and Alex Shibutani, American sibling pair. They waltz. On skates. And spin really fast in circles _at the same time_. I _really_ don’t understand this sport,” she says around a sip of water.

 

“And yet you haven’t looked away once,” Poe teases as the music picks up and the pair starts their dance.

 

“It’s not like I need to know the physics behind it,” the music changes to another one of Coldplay’s songs, and Rey squeezes his fingers, shakes his hand where it rests against her stomach. “Come on, this is _it!_ Can you believe they can do that? And they _so in sync_ it’s insane _._ And look at that lift! He’s doing that with _knives on his feet!_ ”

 

The way Poe hums vibrates through his chest and into her back, “They’re very talented.”

 

Rey snorts, “Freaking understatement. And they’re so young! They’re like, _my_ age.”

 

Poe groans into her shoulder, “You just _had_ to bring up the age thing.”

 

“No one harasses you about that anymore,” carefully twisting around, Rey brushes her mouth against his jaw, shifts the bottle in her hand so she can free her index and middle fingers and touches them to his cheek, turning him so she can reach the corner of his mouth. “You know what I meant.”

 

Poe snags her bottle and drops both their waters to the floor next to the couch, catches her jaw and turns her back for another, longer kiss, but the chatter on the television steals Rey’s focus back to the Olympics, “Wait Poe, wait,” she murmurs against his mouth, kissing him one more time, quick, before turning away and settling back so she can see the television. “Papadakis and Cizeron are next, and their short program last night was _wild_. Papadakis almost lost her top, the poor girl, but they _still_ somehow scored an 81.93.”

 

“Oh fine,” Poe grumbles and drops his head back against her shoulder, words muffled by her sweatshirt. “But we’re making out for a while when this is over. You’re not going to rope me into watching fancy ski jumping or the one where they go head-first down the empty waterslide or whatever.”

 

“Apparently that’s called skeleton,” Rey murmurs, more than a little distracted by the couple dancing across the screen, and she settles deeper into Poe’s lap. “Whatever the hell you want.”

 

He kisses her shoulder, “I’m holding you to that.”

 

“You know, they were _really_ good,” Rey commentates over the professions from NBC, who are taking about how the French couple are likely going to be the next big thing in skating once Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir retire. “Not as performative as some of the other routines, but technically? That was insane. Virtue and Moir are basically going to have to be perfect to get gold.”

 

“I’ll take your word for it.”

 

Poe starts brushing a series of quick, short kisses against Rey’s temple, the arch of her cheek, the side of her neck, and it pulls her halfhearted focus away from the final pair of American ice dancers, Hubbell and Donohue, and their performance to _Across the Sky, Caught Out in the Rain_ , but she swats at him when NBC breaks for the millionth time for commercial, “Come on,” she laughs when Poe nuzzles against her ear, squirms against him. “I swear, you’re not going to want to miss this.”

 

He smacks one last kiss on the side of her head before settling against her, “Yeah, yeah.”

 

They watch Virtue and Moir take the ice, and start skating around each other once the _Moulin Rouge_ soundtrack starts, and _somehow,_ they come to a dead stop when Virtue jumps _backwards_ into Moir’s arms, “Like, look at that!” Rey gestures at the screen with the hand still holding onto Poe’s. “How does that even work?”

 

Poe whistles low against her ear, “I have _no_ idea.”

 

A wide grin splits across Rey’s face, because she _knows_ she’s got him paying attention now.

 

As he should. These two skaters are insanely talented.

 

“Oh my god, is he sing— _did you see that_?” She almost squeals. “Holy shit, he deadlifted her _onto his face_.”

 

“Yes Rey, I saw that.”

 

When they get to _Come What May,_ Rey nearly loses it, “Oh my god he _is_ singing to her. Oh my god.”

 

Poe chuckles against her neck, “Breathe Rey.”

 

“Holy shit, Virtue is standing on his thighs with _knives on her feet_!” She squeals again as she does the exact opposite of breathing.

 

“Yes, she is.”

 

“ _How_ is this sport physically possible?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Oh my god, look at them,” dropping Poe’s hand, Rey buries her face in her palms, but still peeks through her fingers to catch the end of the routine. “I can’t. Look at that lift! And that hug! _You_ hug me like that. _Oh my god Poe_ , look at them!”

 

He squeezes her side and chuckles low, “You’d think you _hadn’t actually seen_ this routine before.”

 

“Yeah, but it was _so much better_ than when they skated it in the team performance,” she flaps her hand in the direction of the television again. “You saw what I just saw. They had to have won gold with that. That was _wild_.”

 

It goes right down to the wire, just as NBC’s commentators said it would, and even though Papadakis and Cizeron had the higher free skate score, Virtue and Moir get the edge from their lead in the short program, vaulting them over the French couple for their second gold of the games, “Oh my god!” Rey squeals as Moir jumps up and then wraps Virtue in a _massive_ hug. “This is so amazing. I’m so happy, I’m not even Canadian! I grew up almost as far away from Canada as you can get while being in the United States! They are one of the most adorable totally-not-not-couples I’ve ever seen. Seriously. It’s ridiculous.”

 

“ _Not-not_ couples?”

 

Since the coverage has cut to commercial, Rey tilts her head back to Poe, wrinkles her nose, “They call themselves _business partners_ , like they’re _completely platonic_ or some nonsense.”

 

“Oh, you mean how you just call me your _friend_ whenever I swing by the gym?”

 

Rey rolls her eyes, tries to squirm away when he pokes her in the side, “The last thing my students need to know is what I get up to with Senator Organa’s Head of Security in his spare time.”

 

Which is a lot of things, actually.

 

“And Virtue and Moir probably think the same things about their fanbase.”

 

Rey rolls her eyes, “Oh come on, it’s Olympics season, just enable me for the week. Let me just sit and hope that they’re been secretly hiding a relationship or something ridiculous, just to spite their fans.”

 

“ _You’re_ ridiculous,” Poe squeezes her up against him, shifts a little and slides down the arm of the couch so he’s slumped and lying more on his back. “What you’re saying is that I’m going to expect this from you in 2020 with Team Guatemala, right?”

 

Rolling over, Rey swipes the icepack aside and lets it fall to the floor with a _splat_ that BB-8 trots over to investigate. She drapes herself over Poe’s chest and props her elbows on either side of his head, “Just find me a good storyline or two, maybe an underdog,” she murmurs before shifting up a little higher and brushing a kiss to his parted mouth, muffling his sound of agreement. “Now, I think you had something of a plan for after the broadcast?”

 

Blindly, Poe swipes at the remote where it’s teetering on the edge of the couch and pushes the _off_ button before he tosses it away. The room goes dark and silent as he tucks his fingers into the loose bun twisted at the nape of her neck, his other hand fisting in the back of her dampened sweatshirt, “That I did.”

 

Rey’s grin is wide as she lets him guide her back to his mouth, “I like this plan.”

 

The peas do go bad.

 

But Poe _does_ take her to lunch every day that next week.

 

And if Rey’s students happen to see them together, well, it’s not like it’s a secret or anything.

 

Certainly not something as ridiculous as a _business partnership_.

**Author's Note:**

> And now, some commentary:
> 
> 1 Like I said, this is what happens when I accidentally dive head-first into a new favorite thing. I accidentally moved to Alabama once. It’s basically the same thing.
> 
> 2 Parts of the dialogue are actual reactions from yours truly when I watched the free dance. Though, mine were more all-caps texting than actual speech, because my four-legged roommate doesn’t much care for skating. College wrestling though? That Bishop will sit up and watch. No, I don’t know how it works either.
> 
> 3 Did I use the writing of this fic as an excuse to watch Virtue and Moir’s free dance for the millionth time (And also the Shib Sibs’ bronze medal performance, because they actually made me enjoy music from Coldplay with all those twizzles)? Well, I’m definitely not saying I didn’t.
> 
> 4 Okay, so this might be a little out of character, but hey, that’s what AU’s are for. Let’s just pretend Rey was hopped up on painkillers after [Tea & Challenges](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13693215).
> 
> 5 I didn’t have many favorite parts about NBC’s coverage of the Olympics (WHY COULDN’T THEY AIR THE ENTIRE GALA), but knowing that their number crunchers knew that Virtue and Moir won gold before Virtue and Moir knew they won gold was kind of hilarious. I was like…why is it taking so long, and then I realized they hadn’t flashed it in the arena yet.
> 
> 6 Some of the way I refer to things (see: lower third) trace back to my decade working in PR and communications. I can’t help it. You can quit the field, but the field can't quit you.
> 
> 7 PS this was really me trying to parallel Rey and Poe trying to keep their relationship quiet with the students she trains at the gym with Virtue and Moir wanting to keep whatever they have going on together under wraps from their fans but…I don’t know how much that actually worked out. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> Okay. Seriously. Back to work on [break me down and build me up](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13483083). I. Am. ON IT!
> 
> Prompt of the chapter from [The Fake Redhead.com](https://thefakeredhead.com/tfrs-prompt-library/)
> 
> Number 204 
> 
> “This isn’t good.” 
> 
> “How can you tell?” 
> 
> “See how they’re slowly surrounding us? And they all have guns and knives and I think one guy is carrying a machete?”


End file.
